Nine Reasons Not To Do It In An Elevator
by uumiho
Summary: Her mother never gave her much advice, but if she had, she was sure that there might have been something in there about not affiliating with assholes. Gratuitous sex. OC warning. Eat up. /KyuubiRokubi, rated for sexual content./


**A/N: **Yeaaah, confessing what you already know, Rokubi's an OC. Yeah, yeah. I selected a random tail and made it a woman, and then made that woman Kyuubi's [bitch] girlfriend. Sue me. This is only going on FFN for convenience purposes—and because I think the dirty-minded screwheads on this site would actually enjoy the nasty, somewhat. –snicker- Happy reading; let me warn you that I got too lazy to add half the plot I planned out, and it's… pretty much a PWP. Again, sue me. There is a likely chance that more backstory will be added later.

Written for Lamb. Written for our roleplay group. Posted early because they were too impatient and didn't want to wait for me to give it the excuse of a plot. I love you guys. --Judo

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Supposedly, the sensible thing to do upon deciding that you were uncontrollably horny would entail finishing whatever menial crap you were currently doing, and then dragging your significant other back to your place of residence to pound into the mattress [or another area of choice] until you were satisfied. Though this typically seemed the more appropriate course of action, Kyuubi had never been a big fan of "appropriate." Or "sensible," for that matter.

Rokubi always was very differently faced when doing business. She walked tall, completely natural, ignoring the fact that she had tattoos and a mohawk and chains and straps dangling from various parts of her anatomy. Completely business, it seemed, and if anyone gave her odd looks she brushed them off completely, acting as if she didn't notice a thing.

Surely, being interrupted while in her "serious mode" would definitely be cause for annoyance on her part.

A wicked grin split his lips. He hovered behind her, buzzing and energetic in a vastly annoyed and impatient way. To be fair, she had told him it was boring and he wouldn't like coming along, but Kyuubi was stubborn at the most inappropriate of times, and had far too many possession issues than was really healthy. [Note the time they had been at a party and some guy had been hitting on her, and Kyuubi had had an ego trip, threw her on the couch and went down on her in front of everyone. _Serious_ ownership issues.] Rokubi calmly slapped away the hand edging towards her hip, conversing with the lady behind the counter as if her boyfriend wasn't attempting to feel her up in public.

"Fifth floor, staircase is over there." Kyuubi's eyes followed the lady's finger, but before Rokubi could proceed in that direction, he caught sight of the elevator a few metres in the other direction.

_Bingo_. His hand clasped around her wrist, tugging carelessly. "Let's take the elevator." At this point, he was a man on a mission.

She frowned. "It's only one floor up, why—" He always got a bigger kick than he should have from tuning her out, and so, blissfully leering, he dragged her to the destined location and cheerfully pressed the button to close the doors, grinning at the disheveled business man yelling for them to hold the elevator.

Thank God he had a smart bitch. "Kyuubi." Her tone was flat and completely unamused. "That is not the button for floor five."

"Nope."

A fist collided with his shoulder. "I have work to do, weibchen." Swearing in German. Cute.

Kyuubi circled in on her, eyes metaphorically pinning her into the corner as his body did so physically. "You can do it later." His thumb slid over her hip, tracing a swirled tattoo as two of his fingers hooked themselves into her belt loop, securing her. Pace by pace he drove her backwards into the corner—she knew this game, and often would try to duck away or completely stop moving, but a tug here and a push there and he had her pressed against the wall of the elevator, hot breath ghosting down the side of her neck.

It wasn't that she couldn't defend against him; she could. Very easily, in fact. But he knew her, and he knew that she wasn't quite in the mood to get into a boxing match while riding a moving elevator in the middle of a business complex. Sometimes her maturity would be her downfall. He thought it was rather endearing, actually.

"The building closes soon," she growled warningly, narrowing her eyes.

_Good. Less people to interrupt us_. "You can come back tomorrow." As if she didn't already know _exactly_ what he had been getting at, Kyuubi offered a demonstrative rub against her pelvis, leering dangerously.

Wiry fingers wormed between his legs and wrapped themselves around two very sensitive parts of his anatomy, squeezing dangerously. "Keep it in your pants, or I'll remove it." Somehow knowing that she was partially serious made the whole situation that much more appealing to him, and he responded by enthusiastically pushing his entire hand beneath her waistband and pressing his own fingers into the soft flesh beneath her underwear. Always more vicious, he singled out the most sensitive area he knew of and rubbed against it aggressively with the nail of his thumb.

It would either hurt or be intensely overwhelming—either way, Kyuubi couldn't see how he lost in the situation. Even if she did try to act on her threat, her hand was outside his pants, and his was _inside_ hers.

Rather difficult to rip off someone's balls when you have a couple layers of cloth to go through first.

A finger pushed aside the cloth of her underwear, making way for two others. They probed around for only a short moment before curling inside her, working along with his thumb in jerky rhythm that was only unpleasant for the first few seconds. He wasn't gentle, but she liked it that way.

"I should bloody _eviscerate_ you." See? She was loving it. Even through the venom of her words, the breathy hitch in her voice did not go unnoticed to trained ears, and despite the fact that her ever-tightening grip around his testicles was getting rather uncomfortable, the sole factor remaining was that she had _not_ pushed him away yet, and was still allowing herself to be manhandled against a corner in public property.

Which meant Kyuubi would definitely be getting to fuck her in an elevator. Today would be a good day.

Foreplay was nice and all, but he was quite done with stalling, and the hand outside of her pants swiftly went to undo the button and zipper, giving him a little leeway with his occupied hand as he charted out his next movements in his head. A firm grip on both her pants and underwear followed a straight drop downwards, bringing both articles of clothing to her ankles. [He didn't think he had ever pulled down his pants so fast in his life.] Without waiting for a reaction, he rose eye-level with her pelvis and slid his tongue obscenely against her, biting down for only half a second before he proceeded upwards again, catching her thighs in his palms and jerking her off her feet. Rokubi instinctively grabbed his hair with one hand and the wall with the other, giving him a look that practically shot daggers at rapid-fire.

Frumpled, disoriented, and about to bite his head off. This was working smoother than he'd thought.

That being the last thing that ran though his head, he slid into her without further prelude. Ignoring the smart of his jaw where she had just punched him and the profane language spilling from her lips, he pressed her against the wall and cheerfully engaged in the pastime he loved best.

Her shirt and bra were carelessly pushed up to expose her chest. Unfortunately, in their position, removing them entirely wasn't much of an option, but he was still able to displace them enough to give him decent access to her breasts. They weren't exactly large enough to suit his tastes, but then again, with killer thighs like hers, who needed tits? Kyuubi slowed the pace just enough so he could bend to fit his mouth to the tanned skin, kissing along the curve of her breast almost affectionately, considering whether he wanted to bite her now, or later. His lips encountered a scar across her nipple—the remnants of a piercing she had once had. The wearing of said piercing had been put to a rather abrupt end when a rather brutal gesture from Kyuubi had accidentally ripped it out. Shame, that. Rokubi had firmly refused to keep it after the incident. [Understandably so, she had endured several weeks of recuperation from the accident—worsened significantly by Kyuubi's inability to be gentle around healing wounds.]

It could have been vague resentment toward the loss of one of his playthings, or maybe just the fact that he loved it when she squirmed like that, but soft touches from his tongue and lips turned into the savage latching of his teeth into the flesh of her breast. He didn't manage to draw blood this time, though after she had pulled him by the hair away from her chest, there was a nasty-looking purple welt that would likely be there for days. He grinned up at her.

"Has anyone told you lately that you're the hottest bitch I've ever fucked?"

From his hair her hand slid, and her fingers dug into the soft skin at this throat, pressing viciously against his trachea. "Call me a bitch one more time and I'll rip your throat out."

Kyuubi grinned in a rather manic fashion. "_Bitch_." As the sharp syllable left his lips, carefully enunciated in order to receive the full blow of each consonant, a hand pressed itself between her legs, and the threatening grip on his neck turned into claws raking downwards across his chest, leaving small pricks of blood in his wake. "God, bitch, cut your fucking nails."

Obscene was the only word that could be used to describe the way her body rippled from her head down her neck, to her shoulders and breasts, toned stomach, and finally settling in the swell of her hips, arcing slowly and _disgustingly_ out at him while her legs gripped him like a vice, preventing his movement to allow hers. Heels dug into his back with too much force to be accidental, and she bucked against him with chaotic grace, while he focused on turning her thighs red with his nails.

_Fuck_. Kyuubi clumsily reached back to press a button on the keypad, setting the elevator into motion. There shouldn't be anyone on the floor he had directed it to—but hey. Who could tell? It was risky, yes, but things just weren't as exciting if there was too little chance of getting caught. He considered the merits of switching to the door—which, upon opening, would send them both sprawling to the ground [unless he caught her first; it all depended on his mood at the time]. Rokubi would take the brunt of the fall, and they'd have enough adrenaline pumping in their systems to fuel a racecar.

Somehow he managed to hit a particularly sensitive spot, because above the hum of the elevator and sticky-sweaty sounds resounded a loud thud as her head made contact with the wall, her mohawk—already mangled from sweat and other abuse—crushing and fanning out in unruly spikes around her head.

At this point the cockiness set in, and he _had_ to show off further. He placed a hand on either side of her, not trying to hold her up at all like he had been previously—it was all on her now. She managed to stay supported by leg strength, held against the elevator wall by his body, but shifting was her downfall—quite literally, and Rokubi very quickly found herself slipping. Her arms pressed against the metal wall, but her downward ascent continued. Completely unhelpful, Kyuubi placed both hands behind his head, hips working steadily and carelessly, as if she wasn't about to completely lose her support. In a last defense she wrapped her arms around his neck—something she rarely did otherwise. Rokubi wasn't the clinging type.

"Cunt," she hissed, nails tearing at the muscle on his shoulder.

A laugh that sounded more like a growl rumbled from his throat, and he slammed into her spectacularly hard, hips and body alike, ramming her roughly against the wall. "I love it when you talk dirty to me," he breathed, and then bit the skin below her ear hard enough that it wasn't supposed to feel good.

He didn't know how she managed to kick him with her legs around his waist, but she did, and his response was a clawed hand raking viciously over her breast.

She might actually win this time, when they sat down at night to make a game of counting each mar and abrasion colouring their skin. No matter how hard Kyuubi tried, Rokubi always managed to mark _him_ up more than he could get her.

Teeth bit at his bottom lip with pressure that aimed to make him bleed. Snarling, he fisted both hands in her hair and pulled only for the sake of pulling, the ridges of his knuckles digging into her scalp. A coppery metallic taste filled his mouth, and then _she_ followed, and he didn't even try to restrain himself from chomping down on her tongue. Her hips jerked insistently against him while their mouths fought painfully—blood painted her lips red, dripping down in a sluggish, glistening trail. Kyuubi licked it from her chin, and then sealed his mouth to hers, kissing her with his teeth and tongue and fingers still pulling at her hair.

The elevator door popped open behind them with a soft _ping_, but neither of them were paying enough attention to notice the old janitor staring rather horrified from where he stood cleaning some contraption or another, halfway across the room. Thirty seconds passed, punctuated by the obnoxious noises of sex and the fair view of Kyuubi's undulating backside. With no new commands, the doors of the elevator slipped shut, buzzing mechanically. From the inside came a muffled cry of, "_Fuck_," and then a whir began and the machine moved again, leaving the scandalized onlooker with the slowly dissipating echoes of profanity and moans in his ear. He heard the faint sound of something hitting the floor, then an angry voice that sounded distinctly female.

Tastefully, he returned to cleaning.

_Well_. Leaving the building, Kyuubi's grin was unrivaled. Rokubi walked next to him, rather innocently straightening her clothing and trying to return her hair into some semblance of order. If anyone asked [and he _would_ be broadcasting the story, thank you very much] dropping her after he finished had all been a part of his master plan—getting thrown against the wall, followed by the floor, was pretty damn worth it when he suddenly found him straddled by two well-shaped legs, and held down until she had satisfied herself. Kyuubi always did like a bitch who could take charge. She had taken the opportunity to tear his chest and sides up to the point where he didn't think there was one square inch of skin that hadn't been scored or bloodied in some way—whether by her teeth or her nails. Not to say that he didn't managed to get in several hits of his own, mind. [That bite mark above her sternum was rather impressive, if he did say so himself.] The next person in the elevator might have been a bit unnerved at the specks of red dotting the previously clean floor.

The handcuffs had been a surprise, though. He had no idea she carried a pair around with her.

Definitely would have to make use of that knowledge at a later date.

It would have been an understatement to say that Kyuubi was pleased with his situation. Rokubi managed to do something few women had ever done before: uphold a relationship that kept him amused long enough to prevent him from engaging in activities with other females. Sure, the temptation was always there [he was no saint] but the understanding that the temporary enjoyment that could be had fucking another woman paled in comparison to the long-term thrill of his current bitch was enough to convince him to do little to put that position in jeopardy.

… well. Almost. What she didn't know, couldn't hurt her [or him], right?

Apparently it could, though, and Kyuubi found this out not too long after the incident with the elevator, on his way home after a long, tiresome day of jacking around instead of doing anything productive with his life.

As he was walking in the door, he was wondering just how long he'd have to hold her by the hair before she gave him a blowjob, when Kyuubi encountered something that was not-quite-familiar to his eyes. Rokubi, standing as if she was about to leave, holding two suitcases in her hand. … And a kitchen knife. That might have been a little much.

He snarled, automatically on his guard. "What the fuck're you doing, bitch?"

"I'm not your bitch, _cunt_." Said calmly, as always. Her responses had always been crisp and to the point. "I'm leaving." Perfect example.

He didn't think "_who told you you were allowed to leave,_" was the best way to dissuade her from such an action, but it didn't stop him from howling at her anyways, ready to throw her on the ground and fuck her until she forgot everything about it—he would have, too, if not for that blasted cleaver held prettily in her right hand. _Godfuck_.

Rokubi chose not to respond, neat-as-you-please lifting the sharp implement toward him, letting the light gleam off the silvern blade.

If there was one thing Kyuubi didn't like, it was knives. Guns could be dealt with. Knives just creeped him the fuck out.

"Move, or I'll chop your fucking dick off." Hmmm. Fuck had never been one of her preferred words. She favored less orthodox terms. He would have spent longer pondering over this and trying to interpret it in hopes of using the information to mindfuck her a little, [never failed to get him off—which was a two-in-one bonus, seeing as the _moment_ he convinced her to put down the knife and remove all foolish delusions of going anywhere, he was pinning her against the nearest wall and boning her until she couldn't stand] but he was too preoccupied with avoiding the knife that was slowly inching its way towards him. "I told you to move," she warned, as he tried his best to block the door without flinching instinctively. Sure, he healed fast, but _fuck_. Knives were bitchier than his mother on steroids.

It was the cocky approach he took to worm his way out of this mess, and a self-assured, "Cut me, _I dare you_," was all he needed to receive a blade in the muscle of his forearm, and a swift kick to the stomach, as his former girlfriend made a break for it. He heard the jingle of keys and the steady clomping of her boots, punctuated by a door slamming, and the purr of a car starting.

Incorrect response, it seems.

Kyuubi was so distracted by the fact that he was bleeding, and that there was a _knife in his arm_, that he didn't realize what exactly had happened until Rokubi had pulled out of the driveway and was making her getaway down the road. A long moment of silence was drawn out as it slowly dawned on him the reality of everything that had just occurred, and after several moments, an enraged yell broke the evening calm.

"… FUCKIN' BITCH STOLE MY CAR."


End file.
